Fortunately the matter was treated as a joke, and we all laughed; but it was a dangerous experiment, and I felt very uneasy for a moment as to the result.  I subsequently referred to the matter to Carrie, but she said:  “Oh, he’s not much more than a boy.”  I said that he had a very large moustache for a boy.  Carrie replied:  “I didn’t say he was not a nice boy.”

December 26.—­I did not sleep very well last night; I never do in a strange bed.  I feel a little indigestion, which one must expect at this time of the year.  Carrie and I returned to Town in the evening.  Lupin came in late.  He said he enjoyed his Christmas, and added:  “I feel as fit as a Lowther Arcade fiddle, and only require a little more ‘oof’ to feel as fit as a 500 pounds Stradivarius.”  I have long since given up trying to understand Lupin’s slang, or asking him to explain it.

December 27.—­I told Lupin I was expecting Gowing and Cummings to drop in to-morrow evening for a quiet game.  I was in hope the boy would volunteer to stay in, and help to amuse them.  Instead of which, he said:  “Oh, you had better put them off, as I have asked Daisy and Frank Mutlar to come.”  I said I could not think of doing such a thing.  Lupin said:  “Then I will send a wire, and put off Daisy.”  I suggested that a post-card or letter would reach her quite soon enough, and would not be so extravagant.

Carrie, who had listened to the above conversation with apparent annoyance, directed a well-aimed shaft at Lupin.  She said:  “Lupin, why do you object to Daisy meeting your father’s friends?  Is it because they are not good enough for her, or (which is equally possible) she is not good enough for them?” Lupin was dumbfounded, and could make no reply.  When he left the room, I gave Carrie a kiss of approval.

December 28—­Lupin, on coming down to breakfast, said to his mother:  “I have not put off Daisy and Frank, and should like them to join Gowing and Cummings this evening.”  I felt very pleased with the boy for this.  Carrie said, in reply:  “I am glad you let me know in time, as I can turn over the cold leg of mutton, dress it with a little parsley, and no one will know it has been cut.”  She further said she would make a few custards, and stew some pippins, so that they would be cold by the evening.

Finding Lupin in good spirits, I asked him quietly if he really had any personal objection to either Gowing or Cummings.  He replied:  “Not in the least.  I think Cummings looks rather an ass, but that is partly due to his patronising ’the three-and-six-one-price hat company,’ and wearing a reach-me-down frock-coat.  As for that perpetual brown velveteen jacket of Gowing’s—­why, he resembles an itinerant photographer.”

I said it was not the coat that made the gentleman; whereupon Lupin, with a laugh, replied:  “No, and it wasn’t much of a gentleman who made their coats.”